Beloved Aftermath
by Sonya Omun
Summary: In the first week after marking him, Seimei took care of Soubi's wounds. In his own way. One-shot.


**BELOVED AFTERMATH**

In retrospect, Soubi could say it was the most caring Seimei had ever been to him. He could still smile at the memory of that week, absently grazing the bandages around his neck with the tips of his fingers.

Even though his lessons with Ritsu had officially ended, the scent of anti-septic remained prevalent in Soubi's school dorm room in the first days after Seimei had marked him. Soubi didn't mind. He couldn't remember a time when it had been otherwise.

Measured footsteps sounded through the door, clearly audible on the chequered stone tiles of the hall, and Soubi slipped shut the book he had been reading, setting it beside him. He didn't have to wonder who it was; Seimei's sense for punctuality had been quickly apparent to him. More importantly, no one else had ever come to his room to see him. There were two polite knocks on the door before it was pushed open without the slightest pause.

Despite the fact that he was only in his early teens, Seimei was beautiful. Every gesture was deliberate, not a single movement of his sinewy limbs wasted. He was tall already, well-formed, exuding a confidence that didn't befit his age.

Immaculate black shoes whispered across the worn carpet as Seimei entered. Soubi rose to meet him, seeking out his Sacrifice's eyes with his own, then lowering his gaze back to the ground. 'Good evening, Seimei.'

'Good evening,' Seimei's voice was clear, free of awkward cracks and squeaks that accosted so many of his peers. His voice was a delicate blend of the light tones of youth and the deep, smooth timbre that he would no doubt wield throughout adulthood.

Soubi did not wait for instructions, moving to the bed while Seimei emptied his coat pocket of his few utensils, removed it and neatly draped it over the back of the chair Soubi had vacated. Another thing that had swiftly been clear about Seimei: he didn't like to repeat orders needlessly. No command needed to be given. They both knew what would happen next.

Though the wounds were on his neck rather than his back, it was familiar for Soubi to have to grit his teeth against the sting of cloth on open wounds as he settled himself against the headboard of his bed. Less familiar, a new sensation, was the noticeable tightening of his loins as Seimei joined him on the mattress.

There was no hesitation as the teen clambered onto Soubi, straddling his hips. His knees rested on top of Soubi's hands and wrists, pinning them against the mattress, keeping his arms close to his body. Neither of them actually expected Soubi to struggle – he would surrender to his Sacrifice's wishes – but Seimei was meticulous, and would not take a preventable risk.

Far from fighting, Soubi relaxed beneath the warm weight, thinking how good it felt to be bodily connected to his Sacrifice. He had always tried to imagine what it might be like, two halves of the same bond coming together. The only remaining boundary their skin that divides them.

No words were necessary as Seimei reached for the strips of gauze that covered Soubi's throat. Soubi lifted his chin for Seimei's gently tugging fingers, intently keeping his eyes on the fascination and hint of pride he saw on Seimei's face when the red wounds of his markings were laid bare.

The coils directly covering the wounds were stained with rust and maroon, sluggish drops of blood already oozing at places where sticking bandages had been torn from the open gashes.

The soiled cloth was discarded on the floor by the bed, and Seimei took time to trace the jagged lettering with his fingertips. Soubi's jaw clenched tighter at how harsh the graze of those soft fingers felt to his abused skin, keeping his focus solely on the approval shimmering in Seimei's dark eyes.

'Always finish what you start,' Seimei had told him on his first visit to attend to Soubi's wounds, the day after the marking. 'Nothing is worth doing if you don't do it right.'

Taking up a small plastic bottle of ointment, Seimei unscrewed the top, and tipped a dollop of the faintly perfumed substance in the palm of his hand. The scent made Soubi's skin prickle to life with unwanted apprehension, his body knowing what was to come as well as his mind did.

Soubi released the tension and trepidation he felt at the sight of Seimei's hand reaching for him with a controlled, soundless exhale. Mentally, he chastised himself for his ungratefulness towards Seimei, but his train of thought derailed the moment cool fingers encompassed his chin, canting back his head and holding him. Seimei's chilly fingers felt instantly warm on his skin as Seimei began to royally apply the far colder ointment to Soubi's wounds. Pain kept him from wondering if perhaps it meant the marks were feverish with beginning infection.

The sting of touch to the raw wounds was swiftly soothed as the creamy ointment softened the wounds, the edges no longer pulled painfully taut by dried scabs.

As on the nights that had preceded, Soubi's eyes nearly slipped shut as pain and relief chased each other though him, coaxed by Seimei's hand. However he could not allow himself, not with the chance to study his Sacrifice's features from close by as Seimei focused singularly on his ministrations of Soubi's throat.

Ritsu had never done anything like this, coldly dismissing Soubi after each scarlet-streaked lesson. Never once had he visited to ensure his teachings had been imparted on Soubi as it should. Seimei did. Seimei thought about him enough to travel each day to visit Soubi in his room.

Clearly, Seimei cared.

It was this thought that made Soubi smile, rather than grimace, as Seimei proceeded to the next step of his care.

With all the rosewood coloured scabs softened – pliable – by the application of the fatty cream, Seimei curled his fingers, and raked his blunt fingernails over the fresh marks. The scabs came off easily, the pain accompanied by a core-deep shiver as every nerve in Soubi's body screamed its horror at the wounds being reopened for the seventh night in a row.

'The wounds have to be softened up first,' Seimei had explained the first time he was running scratching fingers over Soubi's blighted skin, 'Or else the edges of the wounds might tear further, and the shapes are lost.'

Moisture gathered behind Soubi's eyes, threatening to blur the sight of Seimei's smile as the last of the scabbing yielded to his bloody fingertips. Another shudder squeezed its way down Soubi's spine at the sense of fine rivulets of blood trailing down his throat and collar bone, collecting at his back.

Seimei's gentle hand on his chin guided his head this way and that as his Sacrifice leaned in closer to inspect his work. 'It looks good, Soubi.'

Tremulous though it was, Soubi genuinely returned the faint but warm smile with which Seimei regarded him, hungrily drinking in the approval.

'I believe this is the last time this will be necessary,' Seimei said, picking up a small plastic bag containing a white substance. Even while enjoying Seimei's close proximity, his evident pleasure at Soubi's behaviour, a sheen of sweat stood on Soubi's brow as he watched Seimei dip his fingers into the bag for a handful of the coarse grains. The last step of Seimei's nurturing.

'You will be fully healed the next time I see you, Soubi,' Seimei's eyes pierced him as he gave the command, and Soubi could feel it- their bond securing him to his Sacrifice's side, as his one and only Fighter.

'Understood,' Soubi breathed, reverent eyes on his master's face. It didn't occur to him to ask when Seimei would be visiting again when the teen decisively pressed the hand of salt into Soubi's reopened wounds.

It was agony. White-hot pain lanced through Soubi's body, stiffening his spine with a snap while the rough grains where thoroughly rubbed into the raw markings that wept scarlet.

Soubi's lips tightened, his stormy eyes spread open wide and glued on the visage of Seimei that swam before him.

This wasn't the same as Ritsu's lessons. This pain was not meant to flay parts of him away to leave only the perfect Fighter unit. This pain came from his Sacrifice, his highest and only goal.

Seimei had not only seen fit to mark him, he kept coming back. To ensure that the markings, the bond, _their _name would never fade, stark and prominent on Soubi's skin for all to see. Every spike of anguish was affirmation that Seimei wanted him.

That first time, Seimei's lips has grazed the shell of Soubi's ear as he paused in his salting of the gashes to purr: 'This will ensure the marks won't diminish. You are Beloved now.' Those words had swept away the pain. It wasn't long after that Soubi began to realize that the fervent hope ignited by that whisper was the true torture.

In the aftermath, the rush of blood thundering in Soubi's ears and shredding the silence, Seimei cleaned off the streaks of blood, wrapping fresh bandages around Soubi's throat. His fingers grazed the pristine white cloth one last time as he lightly got off the bed, gliding towards the door and quietly leaving Soubi to rest and recuperation.

Looking at the straight scars, undiminished after so many years, Soubi still smiles warmly at how much his master cared. If only for that one week.

**END**

Thank you for reading!


End file.
